In Time of Self Declared War
by Isabelle
Summary: His eyes narrowed. So this is how she wanted to play, eh? Well, he was up for a bit of roughandtumble. He could give as good as he took and Draco Malfoy never complained. Ever. major:Draco & Ginny minor: Harry & Ginny, Draco & Pansy, Ron & Her
1. PART 1

**In Time of Self-Declared War There Will be No Chocolate Frogs**

**by ****Isabelle Ferrer**

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Pairings: Draco/Ginny (minor: Harry/Ginny, Draco/Pansy, Ron/Hermione)

Disclaimers: All characters of Harry Potter belong rightfully to J.K. Rowlings and not to me.

Rating: R (for language)

Summary: A look inside Draco's head as he starts noticing Ginny Weasley and her so-called-relationships.

Feedback: isabellekomodo-skin.com

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He first noticed that her nose was lightly showered with freckles before Christmas break of his sixth year. She had been appointed 5th Year Gryffindor Prefer _and_ blasted Michael Zhan had decided one prefect of each house was needed for the teams. The bloody teams were made up of four prefects; with the added security Dumbledore implemented there needed to be constant vigilance. 

And now he was channeling Moody.

Regardless, she had blasted freckles.

He hated freckles. It seemed someone had lined up all of the Weasley brats and dusted them with the mingering things.

He saw them more prominent when she went out in the sun and smiled widely at the Luna-Loony person (who the bloody hell was choosing these perfects?). She never smiled at him, of course -he would've retaliated with a comment on her shabby robes. In the battlefield that was the compromising position of having nothing to say, if she did indeed say something to him, he was obviously not prepared. So he took out a bit of parchment and began to write down all the insults he would say.

He carried the bit of parchment with him wherever he went.

The thing was, aside from a general genetic glance she spared him once in a while, she didn't use up not one moment of her time on him. He saw this as the first attack, a blatant attack if you asked him. He admitted later on that he was grouchy for that entire week.

Carefully and maliciously he planned a come-back. He was going to place that Weasley brat in her place. It was obvious to anyone in his position that she was insulting him as much as if she opened her pretty pink lips and started a row.

(_insert carefully planned insult regarding rosy pink lips: "you have stupid lips" - good one!)_

His decision, he thought best was to ignore her. That would teach her! He would deprive her of his constant vigilance. Not that he held any but he was sure she thought that he thought about her thoughts all of the time.

So it was settled.

But the red head, seeing his strike gave one of her own.

He saw her (and she made no move to be discreet) _hugging _Potter after the sod fainted when his scar started to hurt. I swear the boy has run out of ways to get attention. His scar tingles from his hair falling on his face and the foundation for the Potter-temple begins.

Never mind Potter, _the point is_ that he saw _her_ openly giving _the deformed one_ a smile and a hug. It was the most appalling thing he had ever seen. This definitely topped the 2-minute snog session Potter's sidekick had with the Mudblood the second day of classes (benefits of said Frechy: shutting Granger up for a whole hour. Best hour of his life.).

Getting back to Potter and Weasley (fawning all over him, none the less!) - she openly threw her attack and it was up to him to follow the rules of engagement.

But since all is fair in love - and war. Most importantly WAR because LOVE had nothing to do with anything. Nothing at all. The mere mention of the word _love _appalled him.

This was WAR. Which _she_ started, may he point out, but he was going to end it. If she thought a hug was bad wait until she saw what he had under his sleeve.

He waited until everyone was in the middle of their dinner when he turned to the ever-devoted Pansy and snogged her right and proper. The whole place went in an uproar and by the time he let the red-faced-Pansy go he was too busy sneering at Gryffindor table to realize Ginny missed the entire show when she walked out with Granger.

Then he got a week's worth of detention.

_"While I realize you were doing your best to sweep a lady off her feet, Mr. Malfoy, I will care to remind you that you are a Prefect and as a Prefect you are supposed to be a model of behavior to your house and other students- "_

McGonagall said other things but he was stuck on the _sweeping the lady off her feet_ portion that the woman had obviously gotten incorrectly. When he tried to correct said Professor he was given an additional 2 days.

Father was most displeased and prevented his Mother from sending any parcels or letters to him for a week.

After the period of starvation and excommunication he decided he had justly won the war placed by Ginny Weasley. It was honorable to cease fire and reap the fruit of his sweat.

The reaping began when his detention constituted helping Hagrid. The ogre.

His mouth opened to complain loudly when from out of the Brute's so-called-shelter walked out Weasley. Ginny Weasley that is. She was in Muggle clothes, her hair all done up and her legs dancing before his eyes as her dark-green skirt hit just above her knee.

He felt all the blood that his body had ever stored rush, in a typhoon to his groin.

_Bloody Hell._

The shock ended when he saw Potter walk behind her, smile on his face as he looked at her fondly. His eyes narrowed as Potter reached out to take her hand in a sickeningly shy way.

Before they could look up he tried to dodge them and hide behind these ridiculously large pumpkin the Large Brute had by his shack.

It was all for naught for he was spotted.

"Malfoy?"

Blasted Potter, he wished the Dark Lord would make a frappe out of him.

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

Dear god, even her voice sounded sweet.

He pressed tightly against his growing erection, making him hiss in almost-pain.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Please, someone kill him.

He was afraid to look up for he knew Potter had caught him with his hand firmly pressed on his groin as he made ridiculous hissing sounds.

"What the-" a squeal. Before he could take his hand away the merry laughter burst out from the famous rosy pink lips and Potter joined her in their mirth.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? Pansy not around to snog you?" Potter asked, evil smile on his face.

"Fuck you, Potter!"

"Obviously, Malfoy - it's the other way around," _she_ said and that once more made them go into hysterics.

Yeah, laugh it up you goons.

He huffed, and puffed and stood up - intent on leaving the damn place as fast as his feet could carry him. He started running, tripped and fell.

Lifting his head he glared at nothing particularly when he felt a warm, soft, small hand coming around his upper arm.

It was Weasley.

"You know," she chuckled as she tried to help him up. "If you weren't busy being a git to everyone around you they wouldn't be jerks when it's you on the receiving end."

He shoved his arms from her and sat up, still intent on glaring.

But it was then that he noticed her eyes being an almost blinding blue color that made him gap like an idiot. The sun was setting right behind her head and it glowed around her like a halo.

She was stunning.

"Think about it, _Draco_."

Looking at him one more time she winked and let an amused Potter take her hand and they walked away together to the castle.

She had made it official.

Their war was fully blown out of proportion and was intent on getting bloodier.

It was then when he heard The Brute coming out of his _shack_ intent on putting him to work on something completely inhuman and most certainly degradation.

And he was most certainly NOT going to _think about it_. Bright blue eyes be dammed.

THE END?  
A/N: I might add more parts to this fiction as the "war" continues.


	2. PART 2

**In Time of Self-Declared War There Will be No Chocolate Frogs (p.2)**

**by Isabelle Ferrer**

Pairings: Draco/Ginny (mentions: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione)

Disclaimers: All characters of Harry Potter belong rightfully to J.K. Rowlings and not to me.

Rating: R (for language)

Summary: A look inside Draco's head as he starts noticing Ginny Weasley and her so-called-relationships.

Feedback: isabellekomodo-skin.com

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Part 2

True to his word he did not think about it.

He didn't think about it for a few days, that is.

Yet, it so happened that the day before the Holiday break he saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him start to _think about it_.

At the end of the hall he saw Potter-head lean in and snog Ginny. It was more appalling than the red-headed brute kissing Granger.

It was hurtful to his eyes, really.

And _she_ was smiling happily -like an 11 year-old on a petty crush.

It was sickening.

"See you later," he heard scarface tell her as he walked the other way. She was left swaying like a watery tart (really!).

His eyes narrowed. So _this_ is how she wanted to play, eh? Well, he was up for a bit of rough-and-tumble. He could give as good as he took and Draco Malfoy _never_ complained. Ever.

Draco Malfoy was brave and courageous, destined for greatness in this path of darkness. Darkness was so much more telling than lightness. Truly, it was far more exciting, father even said so himself. Therefore it must be true.

While Potter-the-Brave left her with the possibility of love, Draco-the-Sexy would leave her hot and bothered.

Watch him in his greatness. He would conquer over light and stop the canonistic rituality of good always winning. He cracked his knuckles and _swaggered_ towards her.

He would admit later on that his entrance would have been much more _debonair_ had he not slipped on the floor and caused her to go into hysterics.

"Sleek, Malfoy, real sleek." she walked past him (_the salt! How dare she mock Draco Malfoy IV_ _while giving him a generous eye-full of his creamy legs_).

Alright, so he could've handled that much better. He would try and conquer once more, he would have her at his mercy -both Potter and Weasley would fume insert insane evil laugher. He would win this war, even if he had to make an arse of himself. In the end, the prospect of all the Gryffies in an uproar while he showed off his red-headed prize was too delectable to pass by.

His most evil plan since... ever, really. Even trying to sack Hagrid was not as fun as this (plus that landed him a black eye as a souvenir).

He was most certainly cautious, he would not be seen until he meant himself to be seen. She wouldn't know what hit her. His mouth would water at the prospect and a slow smirk would form on his lips.

The carefully planned ... plan came into effect on the train ride back from the Holidays. It gave him plenty of time for the perfect seduction of the Weasley-virgin. It was brilliant, really.

He watched, like a hawk, as she was left alone in the cart while Potter and the knights of the non-table went out in search of righteousness. Like a cat he slowly walked to her, lounging on her door frame.

"Weasley."

His bright eyes looked up, narrowed in annoyance.

Her voice was sweet, even flowery. "Malfoy, I tend to think you're a masochist. Would you like me to hex you once more, darling?" She looked down, as if loosing interest on him and focusing on the book she had on her lap.

_Darling? The nerve!_

But there she was, sitting with her pretty muggle-skirt once more showing off her lightly freckled knees. Abominable!

"What happened last term is irrelevant." he said, wishing he had placed a charm on his mouth. So it would keep smiling and not turn to a frown.

"Oh?" she asked, turning to look at him once more, her rusty curls falling over her shoulder. "I see. You want me to hex you."

She stopped, considering him for a moment, her eyes traveling up and down his body in a way that made him flush.

_Professor McGonagall naked. Naked Professor McGonagall kissing a naked Dumbledore. Yuck. Yup, that worked._

"Thinking about it... no, I don't think I'll hex you. For all I know this is foreplay for you and it's a well-known knowledge that it's all the _action_ you get."

He hated her.

Oh, god he hated her. She was making this entire situation much more difficult than what it needed to be.

"For your information, _Weasley_, I can't seem to keep the birds off me."

"_Birds?_" she snorted, looking quite amused. "How classy, Ferret-boy."

_"Ferret-boy?_" he snorted in response (WARNING: GAME TO WIN SAID GIRL OVER, ABORT PLAN IMMEDIATELY - LIVE TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY), "How mature, Weasley. Tell me, does Potter really leave you satisfied?"

Then her wand was out and he swore her eyes turned black with anger, her cheeks were flushed and her hair wild and _good, merling _she was hot!

His hand instantly went to her, grabbing her wand before she could hex his nuts or something completely girly-like-that.

In grabbing her wand she had ended up flushed, tight up against him, their faces inches from one another.

Didn't he say he had a plan? It was a rather brilliant plan. It went exactly as he planed... really, it did!

Her eyes were locked on his and she was sending sweet-breath onto his face. And she smelled like... she smelled like heaven, really. All soft and feminine yet strong and determined.

_Oh yes, Weasley. I'm going to have plenty of fun breaking you in_.

Her breast were digging into his chest and he swore that no amount of naked-Professors would calm him down.

"Draco..." his name was a whisper in her rosy pink lips. He _had_ to have them. Had to claim those _stupid,_ most enticing lips.

"We're already on first-name basis?" he sneered.

Later on he would curse himself into being quiet. His mouth always got the best of him.

Her eyes narrowed once more and she _slapped_ him hard. _Twice_.

"Bloody hell! What was that for?"

She pushed herself out of his grasping hands, grabbing her wand from his confused self and pointed it daintily at him. "If you have to ask, _Malfoy_ then your previously theorized intelligence level has just dropped from a toad... to a flee."

He glared at her, all the while holding his cheek (which was about to fall off any moment now, give it a few minutes).

"Weasley, I just made you the best offer you'll ever receive in your whole poor, pathetic life."

She smiled.

_Bitch_.

"Yes, I'm sure that's the way you'll think of it. _Goodbye_, Malfoy."

He would've retaliated but he had a plan. Another plan. The new plan was fool-proof. Before she knew it she would be groveling at his feet (kneeling would also do).

But right now he had to find the loo. And a silencing spell. And he needed a good wank.

THE END?


	3. PART 3

In Time of Self-Declared War There Will be No Chocolate Frogs (p.3)

by Isabelle Ferrer

Pairings: Draco/Ginny (mentions: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione)

Disclaimers: All characters of Harry Potter belong rightfully to J.K. Rowlings and not to me.

Rating: R (for language)

Summary: A look inside Draco's head as he starts noticing Ginny Weasley and her so-called-relationships.

Feedback: isabellekomodo-skin.com

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PART 3

The little war dance had continued for the next couples of months. If he had to admit anything he would admit she was rather fun (when she wasn't snogging Potter).

That and she was beautiful.

The day he admitted to himself that she was beautiful was in a Hogsmeade outing. Potter had to stay indoors because of the scar-trauma; Weasley and Granger stayed with him.

Leaving Ginny alone and defenseless.

A malevolent smile crept on his lips. He overheard her telling Longbottom she was only leaving Pott-head's bedside (how romantic) to bring him some sweets; he'd run out of them (or the Weasley-brute had hogged them all) and she promised to be quick.

It was his window of opportunity. He would position the pieces in place, wait for the right moment and send in the attack. This had been his working plan for way too long. He'd been waiting to get her alone. B_lasted shit went everywhere with Potter._ Anyone would think he was permanently attached to her.

For some unexplained reason that sat wrong with him and started dripping acid on the pit of his stomach.

Regardless, Potter as an accessory must be highly uncomfortable.

So back to the beautiful!epiphany.

It happened when he saw her walking out of the sweet shop, she looked down -her curls framing her face then looked directly at him.

Her eyes entranced him for a moment and it seemed like his entire world had stopped. She was the snow queen. The streets were white with snow and there she stood. Her red hair like a beacon, her eyes a sheltering star.

And now he was getting poetic. Bloody hell!

He had swallowed and did the most pathetic, pansiest thing. He smiled.

She obviously looked taken back and she narrowed her eyes.

The moment was broken and now he was left gazing at the spot she had stood in. The only word he was able to state was "Beautiful."

It must've malfunctioned his system because that seemed to be the only thing he could think of. Before he had time to collect himself he realized she had left and his plan was for nothing.

He had missed his window of opportunity because of starring at her like a idiotic carp.

He really was pathetic. No wonder his father was always displeased with him.

He was so furious with himself that he stalked off, cursing and muttering under his breath.

Until he ran smack into her, falling and making a great spectacle of himself (this was becoming a common occurrence).

"I am leaning into thinking, Malfoy, that you have either severely damaged your motor skills or you're starting to stalk me. Having no other way to gain my attention but by giving me monthly bruises every time you make an arse out of yourself."

God, she was infuriating. And _beautiful_. Dang it all to hell!

He looked up to her to see her rubbing her arm, where apparently hurt her.

"Don't bother asking if _I'm_ hurt, alright? Because I am fine." _Smooth operator_.

"I'm sure you are," she told him, a bit sourly. Then without warning she reached out and yanked him by his collar. She surprised the hell out of him with her strength as she propped him up.

He was sure his eyes were wide and written across his forehead was the words "_beautiful"._ Great, now all Hogsmeade would know he was a love-sick sod.

"Listen to me, Malfoy. I think I know what you're up to so let's just come out and say it. If you're trying to get to Harry by going through me--"

Leave it to her to make it all about Potter. Who cared if the Superhero in spandex died? To be truthful it would be better for everyone.

"-- I have no intention of _ever_ thinking of you in _that_ way, you get me Ferret?"

He sputtered.

"I - what are you on about?"

"It's so obvious, you're very transparent and it's got nothing to do with the fact that you're borderline albino."

"I am _not_ albino!" he was fuming.

"Right, you know, it's all prerogative." a fine piece of ruby-hair had fallen over her forehead and it took all of his physical restraint to prevent himself from tucking it behind her ear. "Regardless," she blew the strand off her face. "You need to stop this little pathetic plan of yours-"

He _knew_ he shouldn't have told Crabbe about the plan. The great oaf probably told her himself.

"-because it's not going to work. I love Harry and I would _never_ do anything to harm Harry in any way. I think it's good we make that clear between the two of us."

It was then that something _clicked_.

"Really?" he leered at her.

She moved away from him and it made him smirk even more. Cheshire grin.

"Yes. Really."

"I'm sure you think so, or at least _like_ to think so. If so, why are you here -taking time out to explain this to me- all the while not being able to keep your mitten off me?"

Her cheeks flushed red and she glared at him once more.

"You're twisting this around."

"Am I?"

"You are."

"Fine, if you say so,"

Yes! Was he smooth or was he was smooth?

"Fine-- hey! What do you mean if I say so? It's a bloody fact!"

"Temper, Miss Weasley!" he was amused by her flustering.

"Urgg, you are so--" she was waving her hands around, her eyes wide and round because she didn't seem to find a word that truly described his persona.

"Dashing? Handsome? Devilishly sexy? Trust me, all of these work. It's the _bad boy_ thing."

Apparently it was the erroneous thing to say because she punched him in his gut.

The he did something that was completely NOT in the plan. It was in fact completely away from the plan. It was bloody anti-planistic. That's what it was!

He grabbed her upper arms and firmly placed his lips over hers.

He heard her scream in outrage but he didn't let go. His life depended on it. He _had_ to me her like it. If she didn't she would run and tell her 50 brothers about it and they would surely kill him, use him for the Sunday stew. Malfoy-poach. Not very appealing. It was actually positively grotesque.

So you see, he had to make her like it.

His skills as a Casanovan-kisser apparently paid off because soon she was leaning into him and letting herself melt into his arms.

It was the most terrific feeling in the entire universe. Not even a pleasure charm could feel this good because he was sure any moment now he would explode from spontaneous delight.

She was bloody killing him!

So he let her go and both panted and stared at each other with wide confused eyes.

Did he have a plan or did he have a plan? He was a plan-master, master of plans, ruler of the plan-world--

SMACK!

"Bloody hell!"

SMACK!

"Why you little--"

SMACK!

He lost his balance then, falling unceremoniously on his bum. Eww, he was getting wet. Standing up once more he glared down at her little petite frame. She must have brass knuckles.

"How _dare _you!" she was hissing.

Hissing from a woman was never good. His nerve systems were on overload all screaming to run. Run and never come back.

"Excuse me? Someone's got her knickers in a twist" Shut your bloody mouth, you prat, she's got a hand and she's not afraid of using it. "If _I_ remember correctly, you were very happily reciprocating my advances, _Genevra._"

"Ugh! I would never--"

"Mouth might lie, tongues never do--"

SMACK!

"Stop that!" he was sure his eye socket was missing an eye ball. It was now rolling down Hogsmeade Ave. and planning on sitting for a nice cuppa tea by 62nd.

"You _begged_ for it!" She cried.

Her face was tomato-red. Her entire neck and ears were red and he thought she looked absolutely amazing.

"I beg for no such thing. I'm not the Italian-boxer here!" he smiled, despite the currently forming bruises. "Besides. You liked it. You liked it very much."

Though she snorted her eyes were wide-still with fear. Fear that she might've liked it. She might've enjoyed it.

"I did not--"

"Yeah, yeah, you're going to deny it. But between you and I--" he leaned in until her was once more dangerously close to her face. "--we _both_ liked it."

She opened her rosy pink mouth to deny it but he placed a finger over her lips to silence her.

"You don't have to admit it either, Miss Weasley," he stepped back and looked at her bag of sweets that was now crumbled. "Go on, take Potter his-" his eyes raked over her. "- sweets."

She was trembling slightly but she gave him a curt nod before staring at him for a moment then turned and tracked her way back to school.

Plan Status: Completed

Heart Status: In love

_It's all Potter's fault._

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And it Ends.

A/N: I made these a 3-part mini-series. Hope you liked my first D/G fic.

For my other HP fiction check out my fiction site at plastic-slut.com/purplepoet


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